Those of us who entertain a rigid notion as to what fiction—or reality, for that matter—must be may be of opinion that truth can be noun

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

A Life Beyond the Grave

Then
he goes and sits at the edge. I go mum and am at the other end. The thought of
pacification is beyond me. It’s not like it used to be. The bath overflows and flows.
The girl in her undies jumps off the bed and switches the faucet. What is she
doing here? Why and what is she between us? I tell you what I know how I
remember it.

That
was the day all packed up I was leaving lock, stock and barrel. I wasn’t sure
I’d left a lasting impression on him which was maybe why I was leaving confetti
in every nook and corner of the apartment. Baggage on him, he got in and very
unlike him triple locked the door. He looked pale. He began unwrapping – electric
saw, knives, plastic sheets and bags. Maybe he wanted to literally split the
stuff we bought together. He could be nuts, and was unmindful of me.

I went
about my laying around of confetti. Just then he saw the furniture and stuff
adorned with hot pinks. Just so he knew I waved at him from the kitchen, walked
to him scissors and a roll of jet black in hand. He rose and ran to the door. The
door wouldn’t open. He’d locked it unusually and he’s nuts. Standing next to
him, I just wanted to say ‘Hey, it’s just me.’ He behaved like I didn’t exist,
kept staring at my hands. The door unlocked, he rushed out, the door shut
behind. Very rude of him!

Round
and round sprinkling, I got to the wardrobe. I opened it and saw myself inside. I
pinched myself and I couldn’t feel my pinch. I screamed and couldn’t hear my scream.
I couldn’t grip a thing. I was no more. Standing over me was our neighbor. She
screamed sparingly, brought one hand to mouth another to forehead. It was funny
and sad. Others rushed in to catch a glimpse. I crawled out of the house and
saw him watching himself. I wanted to ask and couldn’t speak. Seeing me, he crept
into the heart attacked (?) body. Just as fast he came out. It wasn't nice in
there anymore. He went rolling to hide behind the pillar. My Poor Nut!

It
takes time to train your voice in the absence of vocal cords. School of Voice
isn’t mandatory but I enrolled in it, when he didn’t, just so I could give the
new tenant heebie-jeebies. It didn’t work out like I thought it would. She
leaves the TV on mute and I imitate laughter, screams, and dialogues. That’s
good training. She thinks it’s her doing and that’s not even funny. School of Skills is mandatory and I didn’t take it, when he did,
because I thought I had it naturally in me. All he does and can do is leaving
the tap open and then he goes and sits at the edge of bed. I can close it if I want to but I
don’t and I like to lift and drop objects. This time I whiz past her and close
the tap.

She
tells her visitors she suspends, and caveats might suspend, objects involuntarily. That’s very insulting.
She’s an amateur telekinetic who believes she’s the one who raises pricks in
the hall. He couldn’t stand it so he opens it. I close it, he opens it. She
stands there. I close and he opens until the tank runs dry. She senses something
strange. Maybe she’s thinking of locks for taps. Maybe he’s thinking, when I’m
not, of School of Hiders Finders. I
run (?) to the nearest shop and put the lock & key in her hand. The shop
guy shouts up from below. She calls him to the door, pays him, tells him she
does that and not to mind.